


Memory

by faerierequiem



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerierequiem/pseuds/faerierequiem
Summary: Last year, it had simply been a quiet affair, the two of them in their tent as Achilles spoke soft things to him and gave him gifts he had been collecting in secret. The year before that, Phoinix, Briseis, and Automedon had gathered under the guise of celebrating the first year at Troy, but now they’re absent again and it’s only Achilles.





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know what I was doing with this tbh, but it was for a friend who requested sitting by the fire + kisses. Enjoy!

Last year, it had simply been a quiet affair, the two of them in their tent as Achilles spoke soft things to him and gave him gifts he had been collecting in secret. The year before that, Phoinix, Briseis, and Automedon had gathered under the guise of celebrating the first year at Troy, but now they’re absent again and it’s only Achilles with him.

They’d managed to find a secluded spot on the beach away from the tents and ships. Achilles had insisted that Patroclus only watch, but that’d been all for naught. Patroclus had helped him with digging up a hole for the fire and collecting dry branches to set ablaze. Now they sit by the flames and Patroclus watches the sun sink into the ocean, the sky a myriad of oranges and blues that bleed into each other like paint, and Achilles leans into him to kiss his skin.

The fire is warm under his hands. Patroclus tilts his head to the side, giving Achilles further access to his neck, and Achilles presses lingering kisses to the openness. Occasionally, a breath, far warmer than the fire, escapes from between Achilles’ lips. Patroclus turns away from the sunset and meets Achilles’ mouth with his. Their breathing mixes with each other. Achilles places a hand to his cheek. Patroclus wraps an arm around Achilles.

“Happy birthday,” Achilles says.

He puts something into Patroclus’ hand.

Patroclus smiles. It’s a polished statue of a horse, curved to such stunning realism that he’s almost convinced for a moment that it is, in fact, a miniature horse that has been turned to wood, but Achilles has always been skilled with wood carving. When Achilles had first started teaching him how to (in return for Patroclus having taught him how to skip stones), Patroclus remembers how frustrated he’d been with how unlifelike his attempts had been in comparison, but that was a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime since then, but Patroclus realizes that it’s only been a little more than a decade.

Achilles rests his head on Patroclus’ shoulder. “A few months ago, I had a dream about you and your mother by the sea.”

Patroclus remembers telling Achilles about the only time he’d been alone with his mother, because Achilles had asked about her or because he had been reminded of her from the sight of stones across water. It’s been a long time since they’ve last discussed his mother or that memory Patroclus isn’t quite sure is a memory. He’s surprised to hear Achilles speak of it now, but now this—sitting on the beach with a toy horse in his hand—makes sense.

“I was there, too,” Achilles continues. “I stepped out of mist and saw you and your mother. You were a little boy searching for rocks and you looked happy to see me. Your mother was sitting in the sand. I saw the scar on her temple, the one that you told me about. She looked displeased when I appeared.”

Patroclus is even more surprised. He’s never thought of what it would be like if Achilles were to meet his mother, but he would not have imagined it happening like that. “Why was she displeased?”

Achilles’ hair brushes against his neck as he shakes his head. “She was angry at me for something, but she wouldn’t speak to me. And then you and I played with your toy horse before I woke up.”

Patroclus contemplates this. “Do you think it means anything?”

Again, Achilles shakes his head. “It was only a dream.”

“I don’t think my mother would be unhappy to meet you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Achilles moves to smile at him. “Here. I have something else for you,” he says, and he places his hand in Patroclus’.

Patroclus laughs. He kisses Achilles’ knuckles. “The best gift of all.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you tumblr, check out the fanfic here: https://fearlessinspirit.tumblr.com/post/181472804546/the-song-of-achilles-memory ~ and reblog/like!


End file.
